Hunting the Hunter
by Lady Laran
Summary: Desperate to make amends for his role in Sherlock's death, Mycroft summons John when news reaches his ears that his brother might not be as dead as originally thought. John and Lestrade now have to hunt the hunter and dismantle any of Moriarty's syndicate while they're at it. M/M Part One of a Series
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note – This plot wombat was actually introduced to me by Lestradesexwife in the Antidiogenes club's chat room. She gave me the idea and her blessing to run with it, so I hope I do well. This story is for her! Thanks to everyone in the club for their support. Without all the advice and the writing wars, I wouldn't have gotten this far.

Disclaimer – I do not own "Sherlock" at all. That privilege goes to the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Chapter One – The Start of the Hunt

A tall figure stood in front of the office window, blue-gray eyes somewhat unfocused as his mind churned over the reports he'd been given the day before. The well-dressed gentleman did not notice the overcast sky that threatened London because he was lost in thought, pondering over the events that he had been made aware of and trying to decide what to do. He was very much aware of the gaze of his personal assistant each time she entered his domain with more paperwork for him to look over.

"Victoria?"

The dark haired woman looked up sharply from where she was arranging the files on the antique desk, startled by her employer's voice. He had not spoken since the night before, and she was certain he had not gone home to rest since a certain file had been handed to him. Despite the crisp suit and well groomed appearance, the assistant could see the lines of fatigue and stress on the man's face.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have Dr. Watson brought to me," he said, not moving from his position.

Victoria paused at the order, contemplating on whether or not she should do such a thing. No one in Mycroft Holmes's office was safe from the fiery anger of the grieving physician.

"Considering his reaction the last time your path crossed with his, sir, that might not be an easy task. If you recall, he stated that he had no desire to be around you or anyone who worked for you," she responded. It had taken four people to pull the enraged physician off of Mycroft, and that had resulted in quite a few injuries for everyone involved. Her boss had suffered through cracked ribs and a broken nose, though he'd said nothing to anyone about it.

"Inform him that there has been new information brought to light regarding the spider," the auburn haired male told the other. "That should be enough for his curiosity to overcome his rage and grief, and he'll come to me in order to learn whatever it is I have to share."

"As you wish, sir," she said, not sounding convinced at all. Hazard pay was part of her employment package, but she wasn't sure that the fury of one John Watson was covered by that or her health benefits.

The personal assistant headed out, using one of the usual black sedans her employer favored. Though she didn't look it, she was rather nervous about this assignment. Her clearance wasn't as high as Mr. Holmes's, but she had enough to know that the grieving doctor was a lot more than most people thought he was.

The car soon pulled in front of 221 Baker Street, and Victoria got out. For once, her mobile was tucked into her jacket pocket and she found herself missing the familiar weight in her hand. After drawing a breath, the personal assistant rang the doorbell and waited.

A few moments later, the door was opened by a familiar looking male. Blue eyes stared coldly at her for a moment, making her hide a shiver.

"I don't care what he wants; I have no desire to see or speak with Mycroft Holmes."

Victoria called out before the door could close, hoping the message would intrigue the man enough to come with her.

"Mr. Holmes said to tell you that more information about the spider has come to light. He really must talk to you, doctor."

The heavy door paused, and John looked at her for several long moments. She wasn't sure what it was that he was looking for, but he must have found it since he nodded.

"Let me get my jacket," he said, closing the door. She stood on the front step, waiting for several long moments before the man came out, shrugging his coat into proper position on his shoulders.

John said nothing to her after he locked the front door, moving to the black car that the assistant had ridden in. Honestly, did Mycroft not like any other colors besides black? He said nothing, opening the door for the woman to enter first before getting into the comfortable backseat.

The ride was spent in silence with only the occasional click of keys from the blackberry the woman kept with her. He passed the time staring out of the window, wondering what it was that the older Holmes brother wanted to tell him.

Once they had arrived, the physician climbed out of the car and waited until the assistant led him into the large building. He was quiet, observing all the details as the pair of them walked through the lobby to the lift.

Victoria led him out of the lift, down a long hall into a beautifully decorated waiting area. She tapped on a door, then entered.

"Dr. Watson for you, Mr. Holmes."

"Send him in, Victoria, and thank you," the auburn haired male said, turning when his brother's friend came into the office. "Thank you for coming," Mycroft began, coming to a halt when John raised a hand.

"Cut the shite, Mycroft. Why am I here?"

The politician gestured to a chair, moving away from the window to take a seat behind his desk.

"I received a file last night that took me by surprise," he began. "There is a possibility that my brother may still be alive."

The former military man straightened, staring at the other with a mix of emotions in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Slender fingers plucked a file from the pile that was waiting for him on his desk. He opened it, looking tired and concerned.

"There's been signs of his presence in Wales," Mycroft began. "Or so my agents think. Take a look," he said, handing the file to the other.

John read through the documents, hope trying to build within his heart. He tamped down on it, knowing that anyone could have had enough of Moriarty's tricks and gone after certain aspects of the criminal element.

"I concede that it's possible it could be him," he said, looking up at the blue-gray eyed male. "However, you and I both know that the fall he took is nearly always fatal and I was the one who took his pulse. He was gone, remember?"

"You were pushed out of the way fairly quickly too," he reminded him. "My brother is intelligent enough to stage his own demise, especially if he had assistance from one or more outside source."

The doctor frowned, staring down at the file in his hands. His jaw tightened as he struggled with the memory of that horrible time outside of St. Bart's.

"What is it you want from me?"

Mycroft was quiet for a moment, contemplating his next words. This had to be handled delicately as he needed John's assistance.

"It's distinctly possible that I have at least one mole in my organization so I cannot send anyone in my employ out to determine if this suspicion about my brother is true."

"So you want me to investigate and see if Sherlock is still alive? If he is, Mycroft, what then?"

Blue-gray eyes met blue, resolution shining in both pair of eyes as they held.

"If he is, we will ensure he gets the assistance he needs in his mission and I will clean house here in England to pave his way for when he returns home. Plans can be made once you have a definitive answer regarding the first question."

John looked at his watch, noting the time. He knew exactly where to start his investigation.

"I'll investigate this, but I'm not doing it for you."

The other male's voice was soft, carrying a note of raw pain and guilt.

"I have a lot to atone for, Dr. Watson. I know this all too well. I just hope that you turn up with an answer that will allow me to do so."

"I'll let you know what I find out," the physician answered, climbing to his feet. He paused when a small card was handed to him.

"This is the number to my private mobile," Mycroft said. "No one except for family has this, and the number is secure."

John entered the number into his own mobile, handing the card back to him. He could appreciate the need for secrecy and would hold to it. Once done, he headed out of the office, going downstairs to catch a taxi.

"St. Bart's," he ordered the driver, settling in to get comfortable as the cab pulled away from the kerb to head to the destination requested. John sighed, forcing himself to focus on the upcoming task. There was a lot of hope trying to build inside his heart, and he was struggling to be realistic. The last thing he wanted was to have that hope destroyed; the physician wasn't sure he'd survive being broken again.

If Sherlock had faked his death, then there was one individual that the detective would have roped in to help him. John knew she had to have a hand in it, and he would have to keep his calm if she did. This investigation was not going to be easy on him.

The doctor paid the cabbie, giving a tip as well, and exited the vehicle. He entered the hospital, ignoring the familiar hallways that he'd spent so much time in. He moved quietly, going into the morgue and startling both Molly and the detective inspector with her.

"Greg, Molly," the physician greeted, moving to stand by the table. He hadn't expected Lestrade to be there but pushed that out of the way.

"Hi John, it's good to see you," Greg said warmly. John had been rather standoffish and reclusive since Sherlock's death, and he'd been trying to get his friend out. The detective knew that the doctor was still angry by what had happened at New Scotland Yard regarding Sherlock, and Lestrade did not blame him at all.

"He's right, it is good to see you," the woman said with a gentle smile. "What brings you down here?"

"Sherlock," he answered bluntly, watching Molly's reaction. She'd managed to keep most of her expression under control, but John could see a faint look of panic in her eyes.

"What about him?"

John leaned in, eyes boring into hers. He could tell Lestrade was watching, frowning as he did so. It seemed the police detective was as caught off guard as Molly was.

"Information came in that he might still be alive, Molly. I want to know how that is possible."

"Alive," she squeaked, looking more and more uncomfortable.

"Oh my god," Greg muttered, sinking onto a stool as he realized what John was hinting at. "Molly, what the hell is going on?"

The former RAMC officer didn't let her look away, keeping firm eye contact with the panicking woman.

"How did Sherlock do it, Molly? I know it had to be you. You're the only one he trusted who could have helped him fake his death. I need the details."

"I can't," she managed to squeak out. "I made a promise."

"His life is in danger, Molly Hooper, and the longer you sit here, hiding this information, the worse the situation becomes," he said, pulling on his captain's voice. "Now, tell me everything I need to know."

"It was Moriarty's fault," she said, tears in her voice. "Sherlock came to me, struggling to put a plan together to try to protect everyone. There were snipers involved – one for Mrs. Hudson, one for DI Lestrade, and one for you. He knew that if he didn't find a way to convince people he was dead, then he'd lose three people who are important to him. He'd hoped that Moriarty would give him the information he needed, but he killed himself and left Sherlock to jump in order to keep you safe."

Molly drew in a deep breath, struggling to calm herself down.

"Bloody hell," the detective inspector said, staring at the woman. "Molly, this is unbelievable."

"I know, but there was no choice. We made arrangements with his homeless network to help cushion the fall, then get him into proper position before John got to him. A few were tasked with delaying John's arrival to give them enough time to make sure the scene was set. All eyes would be on him instead of Sherlock, and that enabled us to get it done and not tip off the snipers. I made sure he was loaded onto the ambulance fairly quickly and given my position down here, I could sign off on his death certificate without alerting anyone that there was a problem."

John stared at Lestrade, who was staring back at him. It was obvious that both men were very unhappy with what they'd heard. Greg had been hurt by Sherlock's suicide but had taken it harder because he knew that John would not handle the detective's death well.

"Where is he, Molly?"

"I don't know, Lestrade, I really don't. He picked up his pack from my flat and left. All I know is that he said he had to dismantle Moriarty's syndicate before he could think about coming home."

"He gave no clues as to where he went?"

"No, John, he didn't. I would tell you if he did," she said, struggling to keep her tears back.

"Right then, thank you, Molly," the physician said, straightening up.

"Where are you going," Greg asked, getting up off the stool as he queried his friend.

"Talk to Mycroft and then see if I can't locate the idiot before he gets himself killed for real," John said, fishing for his mobile.

"I'm coming with you," the police detective said, tone showing that he would not be talked out of it. Like John, he was not going to let Sherlock do anything else that might cause his death.

"Right, let's go then."

The two men left the morgue, and John began texting Mycroft with the need for a car. He wasn't going to put himself or Lestrade at risk until they got the information to the older Holmes brother and plans could be made about finding the missing consulting detective.

Author's End Note – I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I think this is going to end up being a series of stories. Otherwise, it'll be one massively gigantic tale and a trifle unwieldy for me to handle. Anyway, please let me know what you think. See you next chapter! ~ Laran


	2. Planning the Hunt

Author's Note – I blame Lestradesexwife for this. She mentioned wanting to see this type of tale and the wombat kennel produced this monster. I hope she likes it as well as the rest of you! Thank you to everyone who left comments and reviews. I always appreciate them as they help feed the muses. To those following my other stories, they've not been abandoned. I promise you. Also, any mistakes regarding British customs and spellings are my own. I apologize for them in advance.

Disclaimer – I do not own "Sherlock" at all. I wish I did, but that honor belongs to the BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Chapter Two – Planning the Hunt

The look of nervous anticipation and hope on Mycroft Holmes's face was something that both Greg and John would never forget. He had looked up when they entered his office, and the expression was there for both of them to see. It was the first time either of them had seen him so open and off guard.

"You have news," Mycroft asked, flipping a switch on his desk that would jam any electronic recording devices. John vaguely recalled him doing the same thing during their earlier conversation. He nodded as Greg shut the door behind them.

"I do," he said softly. "Sherlock is alive. Apparently, Moriarty had set snipers on three targets – Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and myself. The psychopath wanted Sherlock to fall and Sherlock planned ahead, though he tried to get the information to stop the snipers. He couldn't due to Moriarty killing himself and to keep us safe, he utilized the plan. From what I understand, he plans to come back only after he's dismantled the man's syndicate."

"Even worse, the idiot plans on doing it alone," Lestrade said, sounding very unhappy. "That can't be allowed to happen. He's a genius, but he's never had to plan for any type of operations like he's going to attempt."

Mycroft nodded, gesturing to the seats in front of his desk while he answered. The news was promising, but it opened up plenty of trouble. Something had to be done to keep his brother from further harm as well as to make amends for his own personal mistakes.

"You're correct; he has never had to try to do this before. He probably would be able to manage it but only after a few false starts."

"Those false starts could end up killing him," John warned, remembering his experiences in the army. "This needs seasoned individuals, not rookies. Lord, he'd kill me if he heard me calling him that but truthfully, that's what he is right now. He's never had to do something like this. This is beyond research and observation; it involves getting his hands dirty in a way he never has before, and this could destroy him."

"I agree, Dr. Watson. We need to get help to him and swiftly before he makes a fatal mistake," the politician said. "My assistant and I are going through my organization so help is not forthcoming in that way from my end. Despite that problem, I am not leaving my brother out there without backup and pair of you be willing to go out there and find him?"

The police detective jerked a bit, staring at the auburn haired male in surprise. He hadn't expected that request at all.

"You want me to go with John?"

Mycroft nodded, having come to a decision before the doctor had returned to his office. He couldn't let John go alone, and he'd gone through a list of people he knew the former military man trusted to try to find someone that could be John's backup. There was no way to bring in any of John's old unit from Afghanistan, and the detective inspector was someone that he knew the doctor would possibly be close enough to that could help pull this mission off.

"I do. I am aware of the training you've had through the military as well as the various divisions you've worked in while with the Yard. Of all the people that Dr. Watson knows and trusts, you are the one best suited to be his partner in this endeavor."

The former RAMC member sounded stunned at this piece of news, looking at his friend in amazement.

"You trained with the military?"

"Yeah, I did. Some of us were offered the chance as there could be the rare occasion we'd have to go up against a criminal that's had formal combat training. So I signed up for it and spent a few weeks in a version of basic training. We learned a lot about weapons, physical combat, tactic, as well as other things."

John nodded, glad to hear that. Even though the training wasn't as in depth as the full basic training, he would take what he could get and this training Lestrade had been given would be a great asset to them. The former military man would teach the police detective what he didn't know and needed to while they were out in the field.

"I can use him," he said to Mycroft.

"Good," the politician said. "If he agrees, I can work out a leave of absence for the purpose of a joint agency mission. This way he still retains his position, seniority, pay, and benefits. I can also use this to help clear the way for Sherlock's return, restore his good name and the benefits that go along with that. I will also ensure that both of your flats are paid for, utilities as well."

Lestrade was quiet for a moment, then smirked at the older Holmes brother.

"Make sure there's a contract where he can pick and choose his cases and the Yard has to pay him for his time," he told Mycroft. "He's kept their arses afloat for this long without being given credit for his work, and it's time the Yard paid up for it. I screwed up, I admit that, and I'll make sure Sherlock knows it too. I have a lot to do to rebuild the trust he and John had in me. The upper brass needs to pay for what they've done as well."

The politician gave him a wolfish smile, glad that someone else agreed that people needed to pay for their lack of faith in Sherlock. He also had a lot of penance to do when it came to his brother and John, and he was starting now.

"Despite the security leak, there are some things I can do to aid you both in this mission. I'll make sure you have a ready supply of currency as well as some cards you can use for supplies and the like," Mycroft began. "I need to know what else you'll need."

John got up, starting to pace as he did so. His mind was churning over the possibilities in regards to this hunt.

"Untraceable mobile phones, a fully supplied medical kit, false identification and papers, including military identification for the pair of us," he began, contemplating the list that was growing in his head. "Some way to keep our room from being eavesdropped on when we're able to stop at a place to rest. Binoculars with night vision capability and weapons," he informed the auburn haired male. "If we're low on something, I'll message you and you can have a supply drop in a safe area."

Mycroft nodded, writing everything down. He didn't blink when John grabbed a pen and a notepad, quickly realizing what the doctor was doing.

"More than likely, we're going to be giving the appearance of backpacking tourists," the former RAMC doctor told the pair. "This list is important," he said to Greg, handing it to him. "Find a sturdy backpack, pack it but don't let it get too heavy as you're going to be carrying this most of the time."

He looked it over, then nodded. The police detective knew that John had more experience in this kind of thing, and he would follow the other's instructions.

"We'll leave our mobiles with you, Mycroft, so you can field whatever we need to handle," John said, pulling his cell out and handing it to the Holmes male. Greg did the same with his own; their personal mobiles could be too easy to trace. "If it's Harry, ignore it. I got laid off at the surgery yesterday so I don't anticipate any calls from them."

Both Greg and Mycroft stared at him, not having expected the news.

"They laid you off? What for?"

"Financial cutbacks," the smaller male answered Greg. "My hours were pretty much erratic anyway due to everything going on. I was the easiest choice in regards to who should be let go. I'll find something else once we get Sherlock back."

The politician shook his head, not pleased with John's dilemma. He knew just how good the man was, and it was sheer idiocy that he would be laid off. However, this was something he could not remedy at this time and would have to wait until after the mission was finished and all parties were home.

"Well, it's probably hard to work and follow Sherlock on his cases," Greg pointed out with a smile. "I think there might be a way to help you once we get back. You've got a hell of a lot of experience with the army, and Sherlock knows that."

That brought up an idea and Mycroft would have to pursue it later, setting it aside mentally for now.

"How long will you need to prepare for this," he asked the two, pulling up a screen on his personal mobile phone.

"I can be ready in an hour," the police detective answered, looking to John for his input on this.

"An hour works," the smaller male answered. "It all depends on Mycroft and how quickly he can get everything ready on his end."

"I will require three hours," he told the pair, eyes on his mobile as he pulled up a few websites. "There's a train leaving in four hours that will head towards the first sign of where your target is. Victoria will bring the requested equipment as well as the tickets and documentation to your flat at Baker Street."

"I can meet John there once I'm packed, and we can put some plans together on what needs to be done," Greg offered.

"That works for me," John answered. "Mycroft, the file you were given about him, can I keep a copy of it? I'll burn it or give it to your assistant once I'm through reviewing it with Greg."

He handed the file to John, knowing the man would be careful with it.

"I'll have Victoria retrieve it when she drops your equipment and documents off," he told him. "John, please make sure to keep in touch and not just when you require things."

The former military man looked at the politician, turning things over in his mind. It took a few moments before he finally came to a decision.

"I will," he said. "By the way, if we should happen to find any parts of the syndicate before Sherlock does?"

Mycroft's eyes took on a sheen often found in the eyes of predators, hungry and watchful.

"Eliminate with extreme prejudice," he told John. "I will ensure that everything is cleaned up and the right people fingered for the jobs handled. Virginia and I will also analyze any information that comes our way from those clean ups and forward you anything you need to find more branches of the syndicate."

"With any luck, we can take a few down as well as find Sherlock," Greg said. "The more we take down on our own, the better since Sherlock isn't used to this."

"The less he has to live with later," John said flatly. "You and I are used to this kind of thing, taking lives in the call of duty. It's incredibly rare that Sherlock does, and I'll not add to his burdens if possible. He's already going to have his arse in the fire for pulling this shite and not telling anyone."

He shook his head, then got up from his seat. There was a lot to do before the pair could start hunting down the syndicate and look for the missing consulting detective.

"I'll see your assistant in a few hours, Mycroft. Greg, meet up at Baker Street when you're ready?"

Greg nodded, getting up from his seat as well. He tucked the paper John had written on into his front pocket.

"I'll be there. This shouldn't take me too long to pack up," he replied.

"If there's anything you don't have, let me know when you get to my flat. I might have spares of what you're missing," John told him, heading to the door.

"Gentlemen," Mycroft called out, stopping them before they could reach his office door. "Good hunting to you."

The former military man turned, giving him a cool smirk. The good wishes were always needed, and luck would have to be on their side for this to work.

"Thank you," he answered. "I'll report in when we can. Be safe and good hunting to you, Mycroft."

The two headed out of the office, nodding to the personal assistant as she went in to see if her employer required anything. The elevator ride to the ground floor was quiet due to both men having a lot on their minds.

They separated at main doors, and John flagged down a cab to get back to Baker Street. Once one stopped for him, he gave the instructions and leaned back to relax during the ride.

He couldn't believe Sherlock had done this, and he was stunned, irritated, and hurt that his friend had not tried to find a way to bring him in on the plan so that he could help. John didn't think that he'd done anything wrong in the past, and it was plain stupidity on his flatmate's part to ignore the help he could have gotten for this mission of his.

The doctor sighed, running fingers through his short hair. If anything, the only fault he had was that he was very protective when it came to Sherlock and in this case, that could have been useful. Truth was, he was going to throttle his friend when they found him. Sherlock was so intelligent about many things, but the man tended to ignore the more important ones when it suited him. That was what made the two of them such a strong partnership.

John got off at Baker Street, paying the cabbie before heading into the building and up to his flat. He dropped his jacket on a chair and glared at the mantle.

"Sherlock Holmes, when I find you, I am going to kick your arse until you can't sit down for a bloody week. You idiot, what the hell were you thinking?"

With a soft growl, he headed up to his room to find his old military backpack. There was a lot to get done and not a lot of time to do it in.

Author's End Note – Another installment done and the hunt will begin soon. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. See you soon! ~ Laran


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